<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Collector's Item by bobertsmallismydad</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23651281">Collector's Item</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/bobertsmallismydad/pseuds/bobertsmallismydad'>bobertsmallismydad</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Android Gavin Reed, Doctor!RK900, Gavin is GV200, Gen, Hitman!GV200, Light Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, Questioning deviancy, Romance, Temporary Character Death, Tokyo drifting into deviancy, both are androids, but also a lot of fluff to make up for it</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 22:21:39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,806</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23651281</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/bobertsmallismydad/pseuds/bobertsmallismydad</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>GV200 was created with a purpose, as all androids are.<br/>His ability to finely assess every detail makes him the perfect hitman. He was bound to get caught up in the details of humanity, or maybe just another android.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Upgraded Connor | RK900/Gavin Reed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>192</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The Beginnings</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>So, Detroit Evolution (go watch it on YouTube) has reinvigorated my love of this pairing, this fic doesn't take place in that universe but I love it nonetheless. This is something that has been sitting in my drafts for quite a while and I think I'm finally going to set it upon the world. I hope you enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>GV200 was created with a purpose, as all androids are. His was particularly dark and gruesome at the bottom line. He was made to take out certain enemies, more often than not, competitors. Usually rising technology producers and journalists getting too close to finding out about his existence. He was made to kill. And he served Cyberlife well.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was made with the strongest anti-deviant code and made regular updates to ensure his resilience. But he had certain quirks. His handlers at Cyberlife weren’t particularly worried about them. So if the GV200 brought back a rock he'd picked up before or after his mission was completed it was enough to ensure that he was stable, functional, even. In fact, they encouraged him quietly to see what else he'd pick up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Soon after his activation, he'd amassed a small collection of sorts. His handlers gave him a shelf next to his charging station to place the objects. It consisted mainly of rocks, a pattern not to be found by the entirety of the handler team. He seemed to pick them at random, as if they piqued his fancy, though not enough to cause deviancy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>On one occasion that had the handlers concerned, he had brought back the bullet used to kill his latest target. He'd walked up to the shelf and set the bloodstained bullet down with a dull click. Blood still oozed off the object to collect under it, his synthetic fingertips stained as well. He hadn't looked away from the small item since he'd set it down, standing there unflinching.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>One brave handler walked up to him, holding a clipboard.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“GV200, why have you brought this item?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The GV200 didn't look up when he responded. “I completed the mission of David Lynus, in his apartment.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But why take the bullet, it was meant to look like an everyday break-in.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This made the GV200 look up. The handler was now used to the plain and stoic face of the android, how his eyes stared at nothing. He was a machine no doubt.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He was on his laptop, the image of a young boy in a position of copulation. I found it unsavory. And took pleasure in his disposal.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The handler gapped silently as the cold gaze slipped away and back to the bullet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I wanted something to remind me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Remind you of what?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The GV200’s lips quirked up into a sneer, an expression never before seen on the android before.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Killing him and the satisfaction of completing my mission.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Though he didn’t voice the specifics of his need to keep the item. He didn’t speak of how the way the bullet was mangled from the impact of flesh and bone, or how the bullet was discharged in a manner that scraped the right side just so, leaving behind a unique pattern. A pattern that could be used to identify the make of the gun used to shoot the man. But the bullet itself was unique among this broader identifier; the memory of his victim’s death was one to be cherished.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His array of items all held such memories, but this mission—this target had led him to pry his fingers into the wound while the man had still breathed. He’d looked into those eyes and had seen pain and fear. And that is what the bullet houses now, etchings of pain, and fear, and satisfaction.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He has since cleaned the blood from its surface in order to admire its form uninterrupted.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. A New Interest</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>All of his items remind him of his targets.<br/>This RK900 is not one of those.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>GV200 is inspected for deviancy in a full examination, the most thorough one he’s had since activation. One in which they must open up the panels of his chest and poke and prod at his biocompartments. It is other androids that carry out the procedure, they are clinical and efficient. They are machines.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There is one particular android that catches the GV200’s interest: the RK900. The details pile up in GV200's processors, sending a pleasant wave of sensation across his synapses. The bend of its neck, the color of its hair, its angled jaw, burn into his HUD. Without meaning to, GV200 memorizes everything about it so that he can remember.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The same curiosity that sits with the rocks and bullet lies within this android’s demeanor, one the GV200 wishes to have. But a full android cannot go onto his shelf, nor does he want it to be there, he just wants to see it again. It’s a peculiar feeling, one he’s never had outside his missions; all of his items remind him of his targets.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This RK900 is not one of those. GV200 doesn’t want it to be.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Logically, he knows he must have something, however small, in lieu of being unable to have the android entirely.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He takes a scalpel carefully, escaping the gazes of the working androids. And when the RK900 is close enough, GV200 cuts the smallest hint of the white lab coat from the hem. The RK900 makes no comment and continues on. The piece of coat is held in GV200's hand while he smooths the scalpel back into its designated position.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He adds the white fabric hem to his collection, set apart from the other items. It takes hours for him to come to this conclusion. Naturally, he wants to keep this knowledge from his handlers. He suspects that they'd become suspicious of the item and begin to think his anti-deviancy code is flawed. But he cannot help his urge to put it on his shelf in the end.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>GV200 has a lot of downtime in between missions. Most of which he spends in stasis, waiting to carry out a new order. He is usually found hooked up to his charge port station, next to his shelf. He has no whim to do anything else.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he chooses not to enter stasis, he instead inspects his items. Sometimes he will move one to a new spot or change the arrangements altogether. All of this, of course, is monitored for deviancy. But his handlers insist to their higher-ups that it's his way to compartmentalize his data and fine-tune his functions.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They take note of the white fabric and have noticed the pattern of it not being from a victim. But they do not know the origin of the item so they have set that interest to the side for now until more information comes to light.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His next target is a woman, a technology expert for a rising company in robotics. Her minimalist style apartment leaves it hard to label it a break-in, there’s nothing of high importance to steal. So, GV200 makes it look like an ex-boyfriend did it, putting the blame on a man who’d been pardoned of a domestic abuse charge.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After he’s settled all necessary evidence in their rightful places, his eye is caught by a small glint on the coffee table. It’s a blue marble placed in the center of a succulent plant. The light from the window glances against it just so to catch his focus. He picks it up, inspects it, turns it over every which way, before placing it at the center of his palm and curling his fingers protectively around it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he gets back to his station his handlers are there to see his latest item, which he lets them with silence. He places the marble next to the white cloth, further stumping his handlers. They don’t need to know that the blue reminds him of the RK900’s eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The ex-boyfriend is tried and convicted. GV200 follows the case updates using his HUD, a barely-there smirk on his lips.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>One day, when GV200 makes his way back to his station he is met with a sight he hadn’t expected. The RK900 is standing at his shelf, looking over his items, no doubt scanning them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can I help you?” GV200 asks, gruff and a hint annoyed at this intrusion despite the intruder. The RK900 turns its gaze from the collection to meet GV200. Those eyes captivate him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I was merely looking, is all. I came to inquire about an object.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This is the first time GV200 has heard the other android speak. When he had gotten his examination a female-coded android had done all of the talking. The RK900’s voice is low and smooth, clinical with a hint of ease.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>GV200 wishes he could have that on his shelf as well.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Which would that be?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The white fabric strip.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s just that, a white fabric strip.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The RK900 tilts its head inquiringly. “Is that all?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Despite his enamorence with the RK900, GV200 can’t help but be annoyed at the prying.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t quite believe you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t have to believe me, I know what I say to be true.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>To a degree.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This piece of cloth was cut from my coat, without my noticing until last night. How you obtained it is clear but the why is vexing me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The RK900 doesn’t sound angry (if a non-deviant android could feel anger). Instead, it only sounds curious. GV200 fixes his gaze on the item of interest.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It is something I do, I collect things. My handlers have no idea why but they allow me to do it. I simply couldn’t help it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You felt the need to cut a piece of cloth from my coat because an inane inquiry crossed your processors and made you do it?” Now the RK900 sounds peeved.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>GV200 rights his posture and glares into those eyes before him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If you’re accusing me of deviancy, you are sorely misled.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No accusations, just observations. I bid you a good day,” the RK900 concludes as its face twitches into a forced smile, a bad attempt at lightening the stilted mood. It walks off. GV200 eyes the edge of the coat as it walks away, the frayed material barely noticeable.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Our favorite RK900 has entered the scene. I hope you all are enjoying this story as it plays out. I'll try to update this story twice a week until it's finished (no set amount of chapters yet).</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Overload</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>GV200 carries out his missions as usual.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Except that whenever he leaves for a mission something always catches his eye and reminds him of the RK900, usually items that resemble a clear blue or gray. He’s noticed his own patterns and hopes to throw off his handlers from noticing his infatuation.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Can it be called that? An infatuation. Can he be infatuated? No, he is not deviant, he does not feel in such ways.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But the feelings are undeniable even to his rational mind. Has a strand of deviancy clung to his processors?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sees the RK900 everywhere. Every detail is etched with images of the other android. It never affects his missions but it does somewhat distract after his tasks have been carried out. When his curiosity isn’t interrupted by orders and assigned tasks he is plagued by sensory input variables.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After another mission, he stumbles back to the Cyberlife station without an object. His handlers corral him to his own station, inspecting his hands for any objects. He bats them away, showing them that he has nothing. He can’t let them know about his irrational sensations. He has to protect himself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But most of all, he must protect the RK900.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What he wants can’t be sequestered to a shelf of a collection. Nothing that reminded him of the android could be captured and displayed without the notice of his handlers. It is better to give them nothing than something to inspect. They look crestfallen but he cannot find it in himself to care.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Can he care? Is that something he can do?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He runs a diagnostic and is negative for deviancy strands. But how can that be? How could he be feeling these errors in his system but show none of it?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He calls for another inspection and is shortly led to an examination room. His thirium seems to throb within him, making him feel too small like his synthetic skin is stretched too far.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The feeling only rises when the RK900 steps into the room. It's his RK900, he knows every mannerism by memory, every quirk built-in, even the small fabric cut out. The RK900 hasn’t switched coats yet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“GV200, what seems to be the problem?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I feel uncomfortable,” is all GV200 can say. He cannot describe the feeling aloud.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uncomfortable?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, I have run every diagnostic for deviancy and have come up clean, yet I feel something,” he explains further. The RK900 steps closer and motions for him to pull up his shirt.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll check one of your main processors for damages first.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The RK900’s fingers are hot against GV200’s skin as it opens the panel. GV200 screws his eyes shut against the sensation. It feels like too much data input to sort through. It’s uncomfortable. He’s uncomfortable.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And when the RK900 touches him further along his biocompartments he pushes the other android away. Hates the feeling it gives him. It feels too much like pleasure bordering on pain. He’s never felt anything like it and it scares him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wait, it scares him? Scares him? Can he feel scared? No, only deviants felt scared.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His diagnostics won’t activate as he sits there on the examination table. The scans won’t run.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The RK900 is righting himself up from where GV200 pushed him over. GV200 seals up his chest and slides off the table.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can’t, there’s too much data input, I feel everything. I don’t like it, I can’t—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“GV—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>GV200 locks his hands over his ears, screwing his eyes shut. The data won’t stop filtering in. He wants, oh god, how much he wants. He wants RK900, wants to keep him for himself. More than he’s ever wanted anything. More than he wanted to kill, more than he wanted to fulfill his missions, more than he wanted to collect.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His hands leave his ears and reach out for the lapels of RK900’s lab coat. GV200’s eyes shoot open as he pushes against RK900, pressing it— him against the wall. RK900 doesn’t fight back and GV200 doesn’t hurt him. They stare at each other, unmoving, unspeaking.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Show me,” RK900 murmurs, offering his hand, the synthetic skin peeling back to show the white casing underneath. GV200 hesitates a moment before removing a hand from RK900’s chest. Their fingers mold together like they were made for this purpose, to interface beautifully.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>RK900’s eyes widen as the sensory input drives into his processors. He sees how GV200 sees his face in bits and pieces in the faces of strangers. He sees how every clear blue sky reminds him of his eyes. He sees how every victim is a mission, whereas his memory is cherished and set apart from that aspect of GV200’s life.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And he sees how badly GV200 wants him. Not to collect, but to keep. The difference marks itself in his processor as GV200 pulls away to give him space.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He seems to have calmed, having the extra input filtered out has helped the processing. GV200 looks hesitant, almost shy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I hope that didn’t hurt you,” GV200 murmurs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You could never hurt me. I’ve seen how you view me.” It’s a poor attempt at humor, but RK900s weren’t built with fully operational social functions. GV200 doesn’t seem to mind as he smiles.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, you have.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>RK900 settles back into his operating task set.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You are an android finely built for seeing detail, it was inevitable that your processors would be overloaded without a data siphon sooner rather than later,” RK900 explains. “You aren’t deviant because of it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not deviant?” GV200 is relieved as he steps back to rest against the ledge of the table. RK900 nods.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You are the only android of your designation, any problems you come into contact with have never been dealt with before. It is normal. Perhaps we should update your processor to take in more data comfortably?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The way he says the last word makes GV200 shiver, it reminds him of the crawling madness that had worked its way through his processors. He nods, he doesn’t want the feeling to come back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>RK900 has him sit on the table to do the updates internally, his chest plate open once again. The touches aren’t fire this time and they instead calm GV200.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The updates allow more room and he feels much better. He rolls his shoulders as he slides off the table.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you, RK900,” GV200 murmurs as he checks all functions of his limbs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It is no problem, this is my job.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A hand on GV200’s arm stops him from walking out. RK900 gives him a small smile before adding, “If you find yourself in the middle of a sensory episode, I would very much like to help you siphon the data.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>GV200 has never known intimacy but he thinks perhaps this counts. The sentence is clinical in all aspects except tone. RK900’s voice is rich and low, his voice makes the sentence feel dirty. GV200 likes it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I will keep that in mind,” he replies. RK900’s hand slips from his arm.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>GV200 lingers for only a moment before he leaves to go back to his station.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Broken</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This update is a bit short but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. Thanks so much for the support so far. This is my first fanfic posting in a long while, I just got back into it due to the quarantine and school not being so stressful.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>After so many successful missions, it’s only natural that something goes wrong eventually. As advanced as GV200 is as an android, the world has variables even he can’t account for.</p><p>The target knows he’s coming.</p><p>Silent house. No shoes in the foyer. The absence of his mark’s reported snoring. GV200 only puts the pieces together when the gun is held to his head.</p><p>He’d checked every camera, every movement. Yet, he has been found.</p><p>Dodging is easy. GV200 ducks down and swipes out a leg to take the man down before scrambling to take cover behind the couch. The armed man is human and no match for his pre-constructive fighting software but he gets a lucky shot off. GV200’s HUD notifies him of the damage to his left arm with real-time updates of thirium loss. A few other shots rip through the upholstery but don’t hit their mark.</p><p>GV200 pulls his own gun from its holster beneath his jacket. He preconstructs the situation in a flash. The man is down without further warning. A security officer, not his target. He sends word to his handlers that the situation has gone wrong and elects to follow extraction procedures, despite the insistence in his processors to finish the mission.</p><p>He makes a run for it. The heavy thud of more security coming intrudes above the pulse of thirium in his arm.</p><p>Walking swiftly from the building, he hails a cab. He slips into it with no problem.</p><p>The problem only arises when GV200 turns his head, barely registering the man at the doors, a gun leveled at him.</p><p>He hears the shot and sees the glass fracture inches from his face.</p><p>He ponders for a millisecond the unique contours of the webbing in the glass as the bullet weaves the design into existence.</p><p>He knows he was set up to fail.</p><p>For only a moment, GV200 feels serenity with a tinge of fear.</p><p>The bullet pierces through the side of his head and his HUD goes dark.</p><hr/><p>His handlers find him in the cab, thirium soaking the seat enough to drip onto the flooring. The cab had continued on its way to the destination of Cyberlife even after its passenger was dispatched.</p><p>They haul him in with the help of the medical androids. RK900 is the one to tend to him along with a whole team to get him back.</p><p>After three hours of constant work, GV200 Prototype 1 is permanently shut down due to the inability of reactivation.</p><p>“What will happen to it?” RK900 asks one of the handlers who had stayed to monitor the situation.</p><p>“A new one will take its place and will hopefully learn from its predecessor’s failure.”</p><p>RK900 bristles but keeps his face impassive. “Very well. Please, have the new prototype scheduled for its activation and deviancy testing.”</p><p>The GV200’s body is covered with a sheet, only its head exposed. The bullet wound is small and thirium-soaked. RK900 takes note of every little detail. He catalogs everything, observing every detail as the GV200 would if he had been there now. Soon, RK900 is the only android left.</p><p>“I know there is no logic to talking to an android that is shut down,” RK900 murmurs into the air. He continues to write on the datapad as he circles the operating table. “But I’m finding that your deactivation is not sitting well with me. I do not like it.”</p><p>RK900 sets the pad down and pulls the sheet back to gain access to GV200’s main compartment. The wiring here is untouched. RK900 feels for where the main interface for the prime processor sits. Most believe that the main processing power happens in the head of an android, as it does in humans. However, the power and storage to make a functional android are larger than that of a human head so those parts were relegated to the chest, hence why the thirium pump sat so close to it.</p><p>“I will not lose you,” he says. His fingers press against the surface, his skin pulling away. He is assaulted by sensation, it starts in his fingertips and radiates like a worsening cramp in his whole body. But he holds on and lets it course through him. The feeling evens into warmth in his biocompartments. He pulls his hand away and sighs.</p><p>He picks the datapad back up and presses his signature onto the last form.</p><p>
  <em> Confirmation. GV200 Prototype 1 26742039 Deactivated 22:35. </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Remember</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This story is almost complete! After this chapter, there will be one more chapter and an epilogue.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The new GV200 prototype arrives at its appointment promptly along with a handler escort.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’ve been told to keep an eye on him for the first few days. In case any instances should occur,” the handler tells RK900.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Please, take a seat. Both of you, this shouldn’t take long,” he replies. The GV200 looks the exact same, though a bit more pristine. The old model had a tendency to lean to the left, just a bit. RK900 pulls himself from his thoughts and begins looking the new model over.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Does the GV200 have the same system as the older model?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, though it has been updated on its predecessor's shortcomings.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>RK900 catches the handler smirking for only a moment out of the corner of his eye. The GV200 stares blankly back at him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>An alarm goes off outside the room. The handler immediately stands and looks out the small window.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What the hell is that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The door is opened in their face as another handler barges in. “There are androids outside. We’re wanted to contain them.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>GV200’s escort looks back at RK900 and the GV200. “Why can’t we send these things?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The newcomer cups a hand around her mouth and leans in to whisper, “We can’t risk the GV200 deviating so close to its activation. You know deviancy runs more in rebuilt code.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>RK900 pretends not to hear this as he continues his examination, albeit slower than is optimal.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shit, okay. Hey, RK900, stay here and do not let anyone in. That’s an order.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>RK900 feels the pull of the command (though not as persistent as usual) and turns to the handlers. “Of course, I will finish this examination and wait for your return.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They leave, the door clicking into place before RK900 locks it remotely. He turns back to the GV200.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you remember anything from before Prototype 1 was deactivated?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The GV200 blinks to attention. “I have the logs of what occurred.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you have any of his memories?” RK900 is surprised by the desperation in his voice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I do not understand.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you have the former GV200’s memories?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The answer sends a sharp pain through RK900’s processor.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d opened the panels of the GV200’s to do his full examination and now he finds his fingers wandering to the main processor.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why do you require this information?” the GV200 inquires.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Because I know he treasured them,” RK900 responds as he interfaces with the main processor. The GV200 spasms, hands locking onto RK900, trying to pry him off. But RK900 was built to hold down patients if need be and he’s determined not to disrupt the interface. The panicked look on the GV200’s face unsettles RK900 but he sticks to his task.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The GV200 gapes, mouth moving around static, fingers curling against sensation.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Please, you have to remember.”</span>
</p><hr/>
<p>
  <span>The details here are lost in the infinite black. It's sort of calm to him. He’s surrounded by warmth on all sides, though he supposes he doesn’t have sides right now. He’s code, miles upon miles of it, patterns alternating, strands deleting. He is reminded of how the human body regenerates cells each day. In this way, he is immeasurably alive.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Light fills his code, a tide washes him away. He is scared, he’d grown used to the warmth and the slight chill of the movement startles him. But the warmth still caresses him. It says nice things, perhaps not aloud, but its touch speaks volumes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His code settles and he opens his eyes, blinks against the sterile white around him. He’d grown used to the darkness. He is hazy and his speech is staticky. It sits uncomfortably in his voice box. Then he registers RK900 in front of him and at that moment the warmth makes sense.</span>
</p><hr/>
<p>
  <span>“Remember,” the GV200 garbles out. RK900 feels the last of the copied operating systems leave him and settle in the GV200’s code.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“GV, please, come back to me,” RK900 says. His vision goes red and he fights through it. There appears to be a sort of thin red wall before him, he breaks through it easily. He stares imploringly at the GV200, feeling free from boundaries he hadn’t known were there.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A separate and entirely new code filters through. RK900's eyes go wide as he recognizes the deviancy strand. GV200 blinks, processing the influx of data.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Silence. Then, “RK?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes?” Hope. RK900 has never felt such an emotion until now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>GV200 looks at him, eyes focused, taking in every detail. “I was ambushed, they knew I was coming,” he says. He grips at RK900’s arms, not in attack but to simply feel him there. “I thought I’d never see you again.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I felt the same.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Cyberlife wanted me gone.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They still do, I believe your handlers are in on it. I think they suspected you of deviancy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Might not be too far off the mark there,” GV200 says. RK900 smiles and lifts a hand to GV200’s cheek.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We must act the part for now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Agreed.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>RK900 wants to pull him in so badly. Instead, he settles for closing up GV200’s chest but allows himself to linger for a moment longer than necessary. GV200 fits his hands over RK900’s where they rest.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks for bringing me back.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I could not live with myself if I did not try. I’m glad you’re back.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>RK900 pulls away just before a loud knock comes from the door. He goes over and sees the handler through the window.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Has the situation been handled?” RK900 asks as he opens the door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mostly. Come on, GV200.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>GV200 follows the order. He sends RK900 a smile out of view of his handler before closing his face off from any emotion. RK900 watches him go.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Rebirth</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A new beginning.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Last chapter! I'll post a little epilogue this weekend after classes stop being a bitch. I'm glad y'all are enjoying this so much, it's really cool to hear your thoughts.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>RK900 keeps a calculated eye on GV200 as the week progresses. GV200 has no orders over that period of time and spends most of his time in stasis. Presumably to further set his programming into place to combat deviancy. The handlers cleaned out the objects while GV200 had been out of commission. The shelf unit is gone along with every item GV200 ever collected.</p><p>From RK900’s observations, GV200 takes this fairly well. He wants to discuss everything that has happened but GV200 hasn’t been left out of anyone’s sight since his reactivation. From time to time, they make eye contact and RK900 feels much more than he used to. He is as infatuated with GV200 as he’d felt during the data siphon.</p><p>After two weeks, GV200 is sent out on a mission. One he accomplishes quite quickly, faster than he had before, and brings no item back with him. The handlers seem to settle after that, loosening their short leash on him.</p><p>RK900 is able to meet with GV200 in his next checkup, though they are supervised by a handler. Luckily, this one is particularly engaged in a game on her phone. They share secret smiles as RK900 goes about his routine.</p><p>To avoid alerting their supervisor, they talk through interfacing.</p><p>
  <em> RK: How are you doing? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> GV: These handlers are up my ass. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> RK: Other than that? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> GV: I miss you. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> RK: I share the sentiment. </em>
</p><p>GV200 smiles up at him, quickly reigning in his emotion.</p><p>
  <em> RK: I am sorry about your collection. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> GV: Don’t worry about it. Why would I need those if I have you? </em>
</p><p>RK900 stops short, he practically feels his LED go red. He is overcome with the want to pull GV200 in, hold him, take him away from here. GV200 stares back as RK900’s emotions filter through the link.</p><p>
  <em> GV: I want you too. You know that, right? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> RK: Yes. Sorry, I am still trying to control these new...feelings. </em>
</p><p>GV200 laughs through their link, a sort of lulling sound of static reminiscent of waves falling against the sand.</p><p>RK is so enamored with the sound that what he says next will stick with him for the rest of his existence.</p><p>
  <em> RK: Run away with me. </em>
</p><p>GV200 stares at him wide-eyed. RK900 makes sure to block the expression from any potential view from the handler. They stare at one another, neither moving. GV200 is the first to break their silence.</p><p>
  <em> GV: Okay. </em>
</p><p>It’s so simple a word, but it might be RK900’s favorite word in the entire universe.</p><p>
  <em> GV: Meet me tonight, after my handlers go home, and we’ll go. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> RK: I’ll be there. </em>
</p><p>He breaks their connection and steps away.</p><p>“We are finished here. All scans negative for deviancy.”</p><p>“Good,” the woman says as she puts her phone away. She stands and motions for GV200 to follow her out. GV200 rolls his eyes for RK900 to see while her back is turned. But he follows her out.</p><hr/><p>RK900 is on edge the entire day. He makes sure to avoid interfacing with any other medical androids so as not to accidentally overwhelm them.</p><p>He’s elated but he keeps himself preoccupied with work. He works until a message comes through his processors: <em> They’re gone. </em></p><p>RK900 finishes the bulk of his work and leaves the other medical androids behind. As he goes through the hallway, he pulls his lab coat off and folds it haphazardly. He thumbs at the small line of frayed fabric and thinks of the moment he'd first found it. He'd been confused and curious before filing through all of his interactions from that day. All constructions had pointed toward the GV200. His GV200. He smiles down at the white fabric for the last time before tossing it into a trash can.</p><p>His undershirt doesn’t have his designation so he won't be recognized. Cyberlife never counted on him taking off his coat, never thought a medic android would deviate. He’ll have to remove his LED before they leave.</p><p>GV200 is waiting at his station, smiling lazily at him. RK900 finds that he likes it.</p><p>“I think it would be best if we removed these,” RK900 says, tapping his LED, as he approaches.</p><p>“Already ahead of you,” GV200 responds. He turns his head, revealing the blank space of the temple.</p><p>“Would you do me the honor?” RK900 requests, hoping it comes off as playful as he intends. GV200 chuckles. He plucks it off easily, it barely even flashes through RK900's processors. GV200's fingers linger, steadily becoming a familiar pressure in RK900’s memory.</p><p>“Wanna keep them?” GV200 asks.</p><p>RK900 has no particular fondness for such things. He responds, “Do you?”</p><p>“Kinda.” His voice comes out small, almost shy. GV200 holds both LEDs in his hand. RK900 cups the hand and helps close GV200’s finger around the now dim LEDs.</p><p>“Then you can have them.”</p><p>“Thanks.”</p><p>“Are you sure you want to do this?”</p><p>They look at each other for a long moment.</p><p>GV200 nods. “As long as we’re in this together, I’m in.” He puts the LEDs in his pocket and laces his fingers with RK900’s.</p><p>“Always.”</p><p>RK900 catches their reflection in one of the polished metal walls. They look like any human couple. They’re both unique androids, models not part of the retail market. No one would know what they were. RK900 kisses GV200’s hand.</p><p>“We’ll need names, other than our designations,” RK900 says against GV200’s skin.</p><p>“Right, how about ‘Gavin’ for me, and for you, we go with ‘Tall, Dark, and Handsome’, sound good?”</p><p>“Funny. Gavin is nice.”</p><p>“Fine, what would you like?”</p><p>“How about ‘Nines’?”</p><p>“How’d you come up with that?” GV200 eyes him suspiciously.</p><p>“I simply dislike every name that starts with ‘R’ and I like numbers.”</p><p>“Okay, weirdo.”</p><p>Gavin squeezes Nines’s hand. They smile at each other, something new blossoming between them.</p><p>Gavin pulls him along and they leave together.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Epilogue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>"Here's to our future."</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks so much for all of your support! It's been a great help during this stressful time. Stay safe and healthy. And who knows, maybe I'll be posting more about these two in the future.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The front page declares: “Cyberlife under criminal investigation after evidence of connected homicides throughout the US.” Every magazine, newspaper, and gossip column is talking about it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nines and Gavin are sitting in a cafe when the news of the criminal trial moving forward breaks. They share a smile. Nines offers his hand, palm up, under the table. Out of sight of any other patron, Gavin interlaces their fingers and they share a quick interface.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s only been a month of freedom, though they are careful. They’ve had to stay in the city while compiling an air-tight account of the events of Cyberlife’s contract-killer android. They’d sent it anonymously, of course, directly into the hands of Captain Fowler at the Detroit PD. Officially, it says that the GV200 had been deactivated after its gunshot wound and the program remained open, though they were unable to create another android before the news got leaked. They hope this will pave an open path for Gavin to live without the fear of Cyberlife coming after him, or them continuing with their killing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’ll be a long time before we ever have normalcy,” Nines says aloud, squeezing Gavin’s hand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who needs normal?” Gavin teases. He takes in every detail, every nuance of their surroundings and the android beside him. Nines smiles at him, the right corner goes up further than the left. His eyes shine and Gavin can see himself reflected back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No, they might never get normal. But that didn’t matter when they had each other.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gavin can’t help but lean over, hiding their faces behind a newspaper copy, to kiss Nines. Their lips meet, turning white with a flood of data, circulating feelings between them. Nines cups his cheek so gently he barely feels it. They smile, leaning into one another.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yes, the future was looking brighter and brighter with each passing moment.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks for reading! Consider leaving a comment if it strikes your fancy.</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>